Summer Roberts' Guide to Driving
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: It's common knowledge that Summer suffers from rage blackouts, especially on the road, so Seth takes it upon himself to give her some driving tips.


Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. The book about aggressive drivers doesn't belong to me either, I got it in the library.

A/N: So, "Summer Roberts' Guide to Geography" was quite popular, so I figured, what the heck, I might as well write another one. After all, it's still a few months until _The O.C. _starts again, so we need all the help we can get right? This story is dedicated to my best friend, Lucie; just remember, we have a chicken situation. Please review and, of course, enjoy.

Summer Roberts wasn't quite sure what her boyfriend, Seth Cohen, aimed to do when he handed her a skinny pamphlet entitled, _The Aggressive Driver _but she did know that it wasn't affection. She narrowed her eyes as she stared at the title of the book and the words below (_How to Get Your Rage Under Control) _and that expression was still on her face when she looked back up at Seth, who was smiling.

"What is this?" Summer questioned slowly, deciding to give him a chance to explain himself. If Seth had really known her her entire life, then he certainly knew that she didn't like to be teased about her driving skills or lack-there-of.

Seth's smile was slowly disappearing. "It's a book, about how not to get road rage and...rage blackouts." He explained, figuring that giving Summer what he had decided would be a helpful book had not been a good idea.

"I do not have road rage." Summer snapped and tossed the pamphlet at him. "That was not funny, Cohen."

Seth caught the book before it hit the floor. "Yeah, while neither is praying for my life every time I get in the car with you." He remarked and Summer's eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm just saying that you might want to get your rage under control."

Summer crossed her arms over her chest. "What rage?"

Though there were many answers Seth could have given her, he choose the one that was less likely to see him at the receiving end of one of those rage blackouts. "Road rage." He explained and tried to hand the pamphlet back to her.

Summer snatched it away from him. "I do not have road rage." She snapped and whipped the book back at him with impressive force. "So me one example in that book that has anything to do with me."

Seth caught the pamphlet before it could cost him an eye and cleared his throat, flipping it open. "There's a quiz just for that purpose." He explained and showed it to her. "If you answer yes to these questions, then you're a victim of road rage." He gave a dramatic edge to his voice, which caused Summer to roll her eyes.

"Just give me the quiz, Cohen."

Seth agreed and read off the first question, "Does driving make you stressed out?"

Summer shrugged. "Sometimes, like when people yell at me for cutting them off or running red lights. Or when cops pull me over for speeding." She wrinkled her nose. "_That _stresses me out."

Seth looked at his girlfriend over the top of the pamphlet wearily. "That's a yes." He remarked to himself and made a little check mark beside the question. "Number two, do you find yourself speeding often?" He could already put a check beside that one as well.

Summer thought for a moment, seeming to give serious consideration to the question. "Only when I have somewhere important to be." She decided. "Which is always." She mumbled this part to herself, almost thoughtfully and then shrugged her shoulders.

Seth made another check-mark. "Do you find yourself stopping for small children and animals?"

Summer glared at him. "What? That is not a question on there." She snatched the book away from him and started scanning it.

"No, you're right, but I think it should be." Seth remarked and retrieved the wrinkled and bent paper pamphlet from her once more. "It's something very serious to consider." He flipped to the appropriate page once again. "Okay, real question this time, when another driver honks at you, are you easily annoyed?"

"Of course!" Summer all but shouted. "I _hate _it when those stupid jackasses honk at me." She snapped and Seth could see the makings of a rage blackout. "When they honk, it makes me want to put my car in reverse and slam on the gas." Seth couldn't tell if she was joking. "I'm gonna back my Mercedes over their stupid Honda."

Seth watched her, wide-eyed and silent, for a whole moment before clearing his throat. "And that's a check." He said even as he tossed the book aside. "Look, Summer, I don't need that stupid pamphlet to tell me that you have a problem." She narrowed her eyes once more. "Who taught you had to drive?"

"Marissa." Summer answered, trying to figure out what he was getting at.

Seth sighed. "That explains a lot." He remarked, ducking to avoid a swat aimed at his head. "You need some new driving lessons."

Summer frowned, looked as though she were about to retort and then changed her mind, reaching instead for her purse and retrieving her car keys. She tossed them to Seth. "So teach me."

* * *

As soon as Seth found himself in the passenger side of Summer's silver Mercedes, he knew he had made a mistake. How did he think he could teach Summer how to drive, let alone survive the experience; things like that took years and, more then likely, days in the hospital.

Summer and Seth had found themselves in the back parking lot of Harbor High School, where the band was set to begin warming up in twenty minutes, providing the perfect obstacle course with their flaming orange cones.

Seth swallowed and tightened his seat belt, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. "Okay, Summer, turn the car on." He instructed.

Summer slipped her keys into the ignition and turned them, reviving the car and hitting the gas pedal. The car lurched forward and Seth nearly collided with the dashboard. He looked up at his girlfriend, glaring. "I said turn the car on." He snapped. "Not drive."

"It's the same thing." Summer snapped, turning to face him. "God, Cohen, don't have a heart attack."

Seth managed to compose himself. "No, Summer, it is not the same thing." He informed her. "You're supposed to put your foot on the brake until you're ready to go."

"Well, I was ready to go." Summer told him primly and put her foot on the brake now, just for show. "There are you happy?" Seth didn't answer. "What now?"

Seth wanted to abandon ship but decided that action wouldn't help matters much. "Um, drive around the cones." He suggested, since there wasn't much else she could do. "And try not to hit them."

Summer shrugged. "Why not? They're just cones." She remarked and took her foot off the brake.

"Pretend they're children." Seth suggested. Summer hit the gas. "Easy!" He shouted and she slammed on the brake, flinging them both forward and stopping in front of a cone. Seth cleared his throat and swallowed again. "Pretend the cones are me." He said instead.

Summer hit the gas and ran the cone over, flattening it beneath the tires. Seth looked at her, wide-eyed, not liking the way Summer looked pleased with her. "You sure about that, Cohen?"

Seth leaned against his seat, suddenly exhausted. "Just don't hit them." He suggested and closed his eyes. This was certainly going to be a one-time event, that was for sure.

Summer was halfway through with completing her circle around the cones when she glanced at the clock on the dashboard and suddenly acted as though she had just been hit with a cattle prod. "Oh my God!" She shouted. "I'm missing _The Valley_!"

Before Seth could even open his mouth to remind her of something called re-runs, Summer had hit the gas once more, abandoning her circle and deciding instead of create her own diameter through the circle of cones. Seth bounced in his seat every time Summer's wheels found an orange victim, too shocked by this sudden turn of events to even close his eyes and pray for it all to end.

And suddenly, it did end, with squealing tires and torn up cones; Summer had made it from the back parking lot to the front of the school and had come to a stop, waiting to be let onto the street. Seth looked over at his girlfriend, who looked just as innocent as could be, before unbuckling his seat belt and leaping out of the car.

"How can you drive like that?" He snapped as Summer looked at him, perplexed. "I'm surprised you're father isn't in debt with all the tickets you must have."

Summer blinked. "I've only gotten two tickets." She informed him.

Seth's eyes went wide. "Two tickets." He repeated dumbly. "I find that hard to believe, with the way you drive." Summer didn't reply. "How do you only have two tickets?"

Summer smiled. "That's easy, whenever a policeman pulls you over, you just poke yourself in the eye and get tears going, unbutton your shirt a little and," she put on a heart-breaking, pouty face, "say something like 'Officer, I'm so sorry, I promise it'll _never _happen again.'" She fluttered her eyelashes.

Seth's mouth nearly dropped open and he remained that way, silent and standing beside her car until Summer hit the horn and startled him out of his disbelief. "And that actually works?" He questioned finally.

Summer grinned. "Of course." She told him, as though it were common knowledge. "You should try it sometime."

Seth sighed. "Somehow, I don't think it would have the same effect." He mumbled.

Summer shrugged. "You're probably right." She quickly changed the topic before Seth could even think of another comment. "Do you want a ride home or not?" She asked impatiently.

Seth sighed once again. "I think I'll take the bus."


End file.
